The drinks were flowing and the surround sound speakers were booming oldies but goodies. Lit candles set the mood. Me and four other 'friends' were enjoying ourselves immensely. When we heard moaning like a whale coming from the basement. We simply turned the volume up, ignored it and kept 'enjoying' ourselves. The moaning turned into banging on the walls. The banging caused some of my art work to fall off the wall, damaging the frames breaking the glass. That was the last straw.

My friends suggested I call 'the Sheriff'. I decided that was the best thing to do. I Call him. He said he would be right over. The moaning and banging continued. We try not to let it ruin our fun.

Doorbell. It's 'the Sheriff'. I let him in. Me and my friends all look at each other--smiling--impressed with what we see. 'The Sheriff' ask me where 'he' is. I tell him that 'he' is in the basement. I follow behind him. The smell of his black leather is intoxicating. He opens up the basement door. "alright, get out", he says with absolute authority in his voice. Silence. "I said get", he says once more. The 'man' down in the basement moves toward us. 'The Sheriff' hooks a chain on his collar, then puts another chain on his nipple ring. Drags him out towards the front door. "You know how these things are", I said. "Sure", 'The Sheriff' said. They both leave. Me and my 'friends' return to our party.

This has been my third gimp so far. I was wondering if I should press charges? He did break a lot of glass.